


I never stopped

by whileatwiltshire



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ex-Auror Harry Potter, Fashion Designer Draco Malfoy, Getting Back Together, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:08:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27781267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whileatwiltshire/pseuds/whileatwiltshire
Summary: In his three piece navy suit, Draco looked like he came off of a runway, which he no doubt did, with what his career was now.Draco looked as beautiful as the day he had left him.Or,Sometimes, it's a heartbreak that fixes everything.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 136
Collections: Harry/Draco Owlpost 2020





	I never stopped

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jesseabi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jesseabi/gifts).



> I honestly had the full intention to write a fluff when I started this out….but just as always here I am with light angst once again! 😅😅 I really really hope you like it Jesseabi! I had super fun writing it. It was my first ever exes to lovers fic and I pray to everything that is nice that this story makes even one ounce of sense to you! 😅 I hope you don’t mind a moping Harry! 😂 Merry Christmas and happy holidays to you! 💙💚
> 
> Thank you to the mods for bearing with me and my delays and being kind and supportive throughout it all! I'd also like to thank my beta B for helping me sort this out! You are an angel!!

##  I never stopped 

The glass of firewhiskey looked blurred in his trembling hands. 

The crowded ballroom room seemed like a haze; fluttering in and out from his vision like those awful muggle traffic lights that always hurt his eyes, making him irritated. It was the third function he attended this week, the last two being for work, and this one, god knows why he came. 

He didn’t know how long he had been sitting there — on a darkened corner of the small bar at the end of the huge room — didn’t know how many glasses of whiskey he had poured down his throat. But judging by the pitying looks he had been receiving from the bartender, Harry knew it had been far too long and far too many to make him look like a mess. But he was too far gone to care. 

The night had turned into a nightmare the second his eyes landed on that face, anyway. He should've stayed in his flat. He should've stayed _away_. 

"Long night?" a flutter of voice broke through his chain of thoughts, and without turning around, Harry knew who it belonged to. He had heard that voice mumble far too many things on the nape of his neck to know every volume, every pitch it could take, he had listened to it a hundred times over late night cigarettes to pick up on it even in a crowded room.

Like cold water to his body, the airy tone sent shivers down his spine, and even in the state he was in, Harry still clung to it like a helpless traveller. He had missed that voice. He had missed _him_. 

Harry let his misty eyes turn towards the man in question to find his pale gray orbs staring right back at him, and the longing that crawled up to his throat made him want to whimper.

God, how many times had he lost himself in those sinful eyes? He knew every shade of emotions they could hold, every single unsaid word they could express. The gray in those eyes were wild; untamed, and Harry loved that about them. 

It was the same wildness that had brought them together wasn’t it? The way those eyes had always pinned Harry down, always sought him out, those were the eyes that always remained unchanged for Harry. And after the war, they were exactly what Harry had needed.

 _"We fit, Potter."_ Harry still remembered the casual way Draco had said those words ten years ago, his legs dangling loosely from a window of the owlery, how easily he had fitted himself right beside Harry after that, demanding Harry to pull himself together. 

Harry had done just that back then, didn’t he? He had picked himself right up, piece by piece and he had glued himself back together. All because of a boy with a crooked smile and hair that made the moon look faint.

And now, there he stood, right in front of Harry with those same eyes and that devil like smile that always made Harry's knees go weak, looking like everything that had happened between them hadn’t affected him at all. As if ten years ago Draco hadn’t walked into Harry's life, hadn't single-handedly consumed every inch of Harry's world, right before leaving him in pieces once more. 

It wasn’t fair. The way Draco made it all look so effortless. As if leaving things behind came second to nature to him. Looking back, Harry sometimes wondered if it actually was natural for him all along. Maybe it was only Harry who was foolish enough to not see it. He had always been foolish when it came to Draco. 

"Not talking to me then?" Draco spoke in his airy tone while making himself comfortable on the stool beside him. And Harry wanted to scream at him. Scream and flinch away because he had no right to sit this close to him anymore. He had no right to drive Harry _mad_ . Because up this close, Harry could smell the faint hint of cologne coming from his skin. It was a mix of citrus, petrichor and Draco's musk; a smell that Harry once devoured, worshiped whenever he got the chance. It was all too _cruel_ ; his smell, his presence, that cursed voice. And good heavens, that _face_. 

In his three piece navy suit, Draco looked like he came off of a runway, which he no doubt did, with what his career was now. 

Draco looked as beautiful as the day he had left him.

"Harry," Draco's soft voice drifted towards him again, sending vibrations of pain into the broken strings of his heart. And it was funny, how he hadn’t heard that voice call him for a year. But the way Draco said his name made Harry feel like he had never stopped calling him.

"What do you want, Draco?" _what more could you possibly want?_ Was what Harry wanted to say. 

"I just want to talk, Harry," Draco said softly while eying the empty glass in Harry's hand, his brows slightly crooking. He never liked it when Harry drank too much.

"It's been two years," he stated after a beat, like Harry had forgotten. 

When Harry didn’t respond, Draco tried again. "You look good," he spoke in a casual way, and the tone reminded Harry of the past when Draco used to lay in his arms in quiet mornings; when he used to look at his sleep tousled hair and unshaven face, saying the exact same words to him, over and over with a smile.

"What are you doing here, Draco?" the words slurred in his mouth, and Harry tried his best not to sound too hurt, too broken and angered. His anger never worked on Draco. And hurt, well, Draco wouldn’t have hurt him if he cared in the first place.

"I —," Draco stumbled with his words before stopping altogether, frowning at his lap while Harry gazed at him. 

"I missed you," he whispered at the end, and Harry couldn’t help the bitter laugh escape his lips. 

Hearing his voice, Draco looked up at him like a kicked puppy, his eyes holding so much pain that it forced Harry to look away.

"I did apologise.." he mumbled after a moment, his voice rough "for — for leaving, I —" he stumbled. "Don’t think that, that leaving you was easy for me to do.. You were — _we_ were — Don't think that I didn’t —"

"You didn’t _what_ , Draco? You didn’t _care_?" the last bit of control he was holding slipped through Harry's fingers as he snarled at the man beside him, pouring every inch of anger he felt into his words. 

"Don't think that I didn’t _love_ you, Harry," the man whispered aloud, and suddenly all Harry could feel was pain engulfing his chest. 

"I did love you, Harry. More than you would ever know." 

Harry wanted to laugh."And yet, you _left_." 

The sigh that escaped Draco suddenly made him look much older than he was. As if twenty seven was a number that weighted ton on his thin shoulders. 

"We were never good at talking, were we?" the gray eyed man said as he ran a hand over his face. "We always get caught up in —" he paused, giving Harry a helpless look, "What I am trying to say is, you must've seen what we were doing to each other, Harry. You must've. We — we were _losing_ ourselves." the desperation dripped from his voice like water, and Harry wanted to tell Draco how wrong he was, even if he knew it was a lie.

"You didn’t want to be an auror, Harry. After the war you used to say how much you despised everything that came with the job I — god you wanted to _live!_ We were supposed to travel the world together! All those plans about Egypt, China, Morocco! But —" 

"But we got caught _up_ ," Harry finished for him. "Life caught up to us, Draco. It's what life does. One day you're dreaming about things you want to do and then, you meet someone and realise you want _them_ more than everything else! You choose _them_ over your dreams! _You_ were what I wanted more Draco! _You_ were what I choose over everything else! That's how reality works!" 

"No, Potter! Reality works how you want it to because it's your _fucking_ reality! You lived through a war, for fucks sake! You can't seriously think —" Draco groaned, "Reality wasn’t you doing a job that practically had no end and coming home looking _lifeless_ ! Reality wasn’t me cowering away from everything and settling for a ministry job that made me more miserable. And we did that for _what?!_ A fucking house where we barely slept in?" he said with a scoff before turning towards Harry once more. 

"In life, when you give up your dreams, you only get stuck with a love that is repetitive and faded. Because the fire you had inside you, always, _always_ dies when you leave yourself behind. You yourself should have known this." he said coldly.

"I loved you _fiercely_ , Harry. I _still_ fucking do. But when you extract too much from something, it loses its meaning. Our love had lost its _meaning_ . I couldn’t bear to watch you _die_ away in that stupid job of yours. And I couldn’t murder myself like that either. One war was enough to drain the life out of us. So I did the only thing that was left to do." Draco sighed. "I let you _go_ . It hurt like _hell_ , leaving you, Salazar knows it did. But I did it. For you, and for _us_ . And if you think that I am _wrong_ , look me in the eyes for one goddamn second and say it to my face." 

And Harry wanted to. Harry wanted to look at him and scream and break down, wanted to wrap his arms around the man and pull him close because he was _home_ , for Merlin's sake! He shouldn’t have _left_. But even if it killed him admitting so, he knew that just as always, Draco had been right. 

If there was a phase called _'losing one's self in love'_ then he and Draco were the perfect example for it. They had crashed and collided after the war like lightning to the ground, and without realising, they had consumed each other completely, leaving behind only the skin. 

Harry would be a fool if he said that he was content with his job as an auror. He would be a fool if he said he didn’t hate every second of going to the ministry when both of them were together. But the pay of an auror was steady and travelling and leaving things behind was hard. So he had settled for the safer option, for _love_ , of course. And he knew Draco had done the same for him. Dreams were put on the shelf when life took over. And after that, things just never were the same. 

When Draco finally had enough and decided to end it all, Harry's whole world had fallen down in front him. It had taken him a year to pull himself together, but when he did, he had picked up his fallen dreams like they were his last chance at survival. And now, a two years later, he had seen half of the world, had been to places none of his friends ever heard of, working as an independent researcher for magical creatures who had already published two papers that were praised all around the world. 

It's funny what heartbreak could do to a man. Funny how sometimes it built people up before breaking them down completely. And Draco knew that all along didn’t he? He knew that it was a heartbreak that both of them needed. And not wanting to burden Harry with the knife, he took the stabbing upon himself. 

"I promised to never lie to you, Harry. The moment you came into my life, I promised to never lie to you. And you needed to hear the truth in the end. I was dying, living a life like that. _You_ were dying. Our love, it was killing us and I couldn’t let it go on anymore. I loved you too much to watch you _fade_ , darling. I loved you too much..." Draco trailed off, 

"I wish things were different, back then." the words felt broken on Harry's lips.

"I wish things were different too," Draco spoke with a horace voice of his own, finally letting the emotions slip out of him, giving Harry a watery smile, "we were both bloody idiots back then."

"W-why are you here?" Harry couldn’t help but ask again. He needed to make sense of their whole conversation. He was supposed to be shouting. They were both supposed to be shouting at each other. Wasn’t that what exes do? 

"I wanted to see you. Saw on the paper that you were back," Draco admitted with a small smile, a hint of pride coloring his voice, "I had to catch you before you left again."

"I — yeah," hearing this, Harry stumbled with his words, "I'm leaving next week. Have to attend a seminar in Milan."

"Ahh Milan! fancy fancy! Look at you" Draco teased as he wiped his eyes.

"Say that for yourself!" Harry swatted him without realising. "I saw the uhh, the photos of your fall collection. They were — you’re really _good_ with clothes, Draco." he said earnestly and watched Draco's whole face light up. He always did love to be praised.

"Can I then interest you into buying one of my designer coats, then?" Draco asked in a pleased tone, and Harry chuckled.

"I'm afraid they are too flashy for my taste," Harry said good naturedly, before continuing in earnest "They are beautiful, though. You did really go —"

"It's not in the collection." Draco mumbled aloud suddenly, making Harry stop. 

When Harry eyed him in question Draco pressed on, his tone low. "The one I want you to have it's, it's not in the collection." he said looking at his lap. 

And Harry felt his heart in his throat once again. 

"Draco —" 

"You know how I always wanted to..." he trailed off, his voice growing smaller by the second. And Harry _knew_. Harry knew how obsessed Draco was with everything related to clothes back then. How he used to spend hours whining about Harry's lack of fashion sense and made pleasing remarks everytime Harry let Draco dress him up.

 _"I'm going to design you a full wardrobe one day, Potter!"_ he used to tell him cheerily while fixing Harry's tie _. "Just you wait!"_

Harry had been waiting ever since.

Well he was done waiting.

"Draco," Harry called and watched the gray eyes turn towards him 

"I leave in a week." he stated.

"I know." Draco mumbled. 

"I'm still furious with you." Harry said again.

"I know, Harry." 

"We need to talk about things." 

"Everything, yes."

"Draco," Harry called again while taking Draco's hand in his own, his voice resolute. "Come _home._ "

And Draco did just that. 

* * *

The coat Draco made for Harry was moss green in colour. It felt fluffy on his skin while looking like it was made out of leather, and the carefully sewn patterns on it only showed themselves when the sun hit it just right. 

"A hidden surprise that only shows itself to the ones who look," Draco had mumbled into his neck after Harry wore it for the first time three days after they met at the function, and Harry had chuckled.

"Are you looking then?" Harry had asked.

"I never stopped." Draco had smiled.

Milan was lonely with it’s fancy buildings and tasteful people. But with the coat firmly wrapped around his shoulder, Harry knew he would never be feeling alone ever again. 

His home was waiting. 


End file.
